memories
by mikabronxgirl
Summary: just something that has finally managed to make it's way on my computer. An entry in Christine's Diary. A look into her character.


phantom OF THE opera does not belong to me. my last name isn't Weber, Kay or Leroux..

this is going to be a one-shot Christine POV of her relationship with Erik. which has been editted. and might be editted again.

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Meg, dear sweet Meg was the first to bring us the news of the latest novel to catch the attention of Parisan society. This novel was of course Del Fantome de'l Opera by Gaston Leroux. Erik amused at someone's daring to try write an account of his life plus the events that had taken place in the Garnier had brought a copy. Together the two of us read through it, luaghing at the most exgratted parts, smiling in remembrance at others, and then invetiably we came to the end. To when the dashing Knight comes to rescue his fair maiden whisking her off safely but not before slaying the vile monster. I don't remember most of my reaction though I do remember the tears. I remember crying tears of sadness and regret but mostly anger. Monsieur Leroux had gotten it all wrong! Who had told him such cruel lies? My head was spinning with the thought that someone had betrayed us. Nadir? No I refused to believe it. Above all regardless Nadir was Erik's friend his confidant. Madame Giry? No... Madame Giry had always been the one to warn others about openly speaking out or about the Phantom. Meg? No not little Meg! We were like sisters! Besides Madame Giry would not let her daughter do something so foolish. By process of elimantion that only left... NO... I shook my head in fierce denial... Raoul! Why? Looking into Erik's expressive blue-green eyes I could see the anger, hatred, fear, and terror shining through. He said nothing just cried. Cried like the scared child he never got to be, like the broken man he was who spent too much time in darkness. And I just held him. Held him not caring that his tears were soaking my chemise not caring that by the standards of Polite society we were commiting a faux-pas.

Later when his tears died down he confessed to me everything I already knew, everything I saw in his eyes and if I could look in the mirror see in my own. A million thoughts and questions passed between us.

What if? What if someone did betray us and at this very moment Gendarmes were on their way here ready to arrest and worse kill Erik? I couldn't bare it if that were the case. True he wasn't the cleanest of souls but he above all else was my angel. My saving grace during a time when I would have gladly welcomed death just so I could be with my father again. He came to me the only way he knew how as my Angel that father had promised me. I have forgaven him of course despite it being a lie that lie helped me so much. There was someone out there who still cared for me. Who wanted my dreams to come true would make them come true. You know how the rest of the story goes. He took me down to his lair, to the seat of sweet musics throne. And how I proceed to further break an already frail and broken man by removing his only shield from the harshness and cruelities of man. An action I till this day asked to be forgiven for, Like me he gave that forgivness an understanding was formed. Later I would shun my angel for the safe arms of my childhood sweetheart another action I regret. Not only did I break the heart of my angel but my childhood sweetheart as well. That night had I been thinking clearly I should have calmly explained to Raoul that I was already married to my angel. Though no ring was on my finger the proof was in our souls. His music so captivating and breathtaking our ring. He says "I only can make his song take flight." when it's the opposite. It was because of him, his patience and brillance that nutured my voice. The novel by M, Leroux goes on to say that Erik continued to haunt and terrorify me until that faithful night. Oh how wrong he was..

The truth was that long before that night I had already made my choice. Truthly I made my choice as I left with Raoul after the Chandelier incident. At that time was to childish to realize what my heart was screaming letting my fear take over. During the Masquerade when he made his entrance dressed as Red Death I felt my heart race the sound so loud I'm surprised no one heard it. Despite the overall sense of fear and terror he was projecting to the crowd I could see, prehaps Madame Giry as well could see the power he radiated drawing everyone into his net. Reminding them of who really was in charge of the Opera House.

"And as for our star Miss Christine Daee. It's true her voice is good no doubt she'll do her best. But if she wish to excel she has much still to learn. If pride would let her return to her teacher. her teacher."

his expressive jade green eyes locked on to me as my choclate brown locked on to him, for the two of us time stood still. It was just us caught up in the passion and love we had for each other. i had wanted to cover any distance between the two of us by throwing myself in his arms begging him to take me home. suddenly he spotted Raoul's engagment ring hanging from the chain.

'Your chains are still mine. You belong to me.'

'Don't you think I know that.' my eyes cried 'do you really think I can keep up this shame of an engagment?'

At the cemetary where my father lay in Perros-Guerrac I waited for my angel. Waited for him to claim me. And he did.. Singing to me the tune of Angel of Music he made his presence known. No other words spoken or other wise passed between us as he reached for my hand. Slipping my hand in his might have been the best thing I've ever done. We left that day left Paris left France for England not before getting married in a small church not far from the Cemetary, a nun and alter boy acting as witnesses. . Shortly after Madame Giry and Meg arrived both getting positions in the Royal Academy of Arts with news that our disappearnce was quiet the scandel and that Raoul was convienced I had been bewitched again by that madman. I shook my head when they told me. In many ways during my engagment with Raoul however brief I grew up I matured and Raoul hadn't. He acted like that little boy always getting what he wanted simply because he could. Our lives in England was peaceful. I never fully joined any company again preferring to preform private concerts singing only Erik's music. Soon all of England clammered to see the Angel preform. And on rare occasions her mysterious masked husband joined her on stage together singing a duet that left many people wondering if they hadn't just been touched by Angels.

We lived happy lives until Erik died at the age of 83. The night of his death I remember remarking that he never looked younger. As if time took back all those cruel years from my poor Erik. Kissing him on the marred side of his face I watched as smile etched into his features as death finally claimed him

_that's it.. it isn't proof read or betaed because it just came to me as I was watching TV and wanted to type it out before I lost it.,. _

_Like it? hate it? review? oh and if this sounds similar to your work I didn't mean to plagerize. Sometimes we can not help the direction our muses take us. _


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